Roots: A Tribute

Never thought we’d get dad off the farm. Yet the right place and right time trumped. My folks said yes to the adventure and uprooted. In the whirlwind of working like a farm kid while helping sort 40 plus years of stash, many things reconnected to my heart.

I was little. Our farm house was tiny yet I never noticed. Life was life. Too busy living instead of comparing. Now with more time traveled, things look different. Same picture, different focus. Standing one last time in the old farmyard, awe settled deep into my heart. My roots were blessed. Miles of open fields to explore. The rolling hills touched the sky. The fireflies danced over the misty slough. Time disappeared into the sparkling ripples along the creek bend. The winding cow paths playfully beckoned amidst the peaceful trees. My roots were alive, unplugged, unfettered simplicity. The land was part of me.

Things change. Even those assumed certainties. It’s oddly unsettling to realize my folks no longer are where my roots are. A misfit of a notion. Inside brews a rising awareness that nothing is permanent. A beacon to return to what is truly important.